Chapter Twenty-Four
Iona
Rafe leaps on me like a panther, growling softly like one too, and bares his teeth. "The beast needs to feed, pet, and you are my nourishment. There's nothing like a good, hard fuck to reinvigorate our elderly bodies." He winks. "But I don't feel old at all when I'm with you. Certainly not when we're 'having a poke.' I love that you use that term. But now, I need to pounce on you."
I giggle like a schoolgirl. A mature woman shouldn't do that, but I dinnae care what anyone thinks of me. Rafe likes everything about me, and I feel the same about him.
Now he literally pounces on me. His hands and knees land at either side of my body. He growls again, slightly louder this time.
I reach up to hold his face in my hands.
Rafe kisses my palm, licking it like a cat might do.
And then someone knocks on the bedroom door. "Dad? Is everything all right in there? Sounded like a large animal was threatening to attack you. Maybe Eric and I should rescue you and Iona."
Naturally, there was a significant amount of sarcasm in Toby's voice.
"Oh, leave them alone," Courtney says. "If a puma rips them apart, we'll have the whole house to ourselves."
"And Rafe's car," Eric adds. "I saw his Audi A6 in the garage. That's a wicked four-door sports car."
Rafe sits back on his heels and sighs.
I sit up and hug him as I murmur, "It's their way of showing affection."
"Yes, I know." His tone is equally soft. "But I was looking forward to fucking you like a wild animal."
"We can do that later."
Rafe slides off the bed and shouts toward the door, "We're coming, once we've gotten dressed. You lot have ruined our morning entertainment, so you should be the ones to make breakfast."
Laughter ensues, followed by footfalls clapping down the hall.
Rafe and I take our time getting dressed. Why hurry? The children will be making breakfast for us. Besides, I need to rifle through my bags to find what I want to wear today. Our swift departure from Scotland didn't give me much time for neatly packing. Rafe hastily stuffed everything into his bags. I don't feel slovenly after watching him pack.
When we walk into the living room, Rafe and I both halt and stare. Why? Our children are singing a song I don't recognize, probably something very modern, and they're dancing too. Every so often, they give each other high-fives in unison. Then they go back to singing and dancing---while whipping up a meal for all of us.
Rafe holds my hand, as usual, when we approach the kitchen island. He gazes at the youngsters while shaking his head, seemingly baffled by the display going on in front of us. "You lot are barmy. Are all young people off their trolleys these days?"
Toby grins. "Chill, Dad. You'll ruin your rep as a totally based old coot if you keep acting like a senior citizen."
"I'm fifty-one, you git, not eighty."
"Are you sure about that? I mean, you and Iona went to bed early last night, just like senior citizens do." Toby glances at Eric and grins. "See? I told you this house is an old folks' home. Dad and Iona couldn't stay awake past ten."
Eric laughs. "The insults are flying, Knight family style."
Courtney elbows him in the side. "Shut up, Eric. You and Toby are such babies."
Rafe bars his arms over his chest. "Is there actual food here? Or are we meant to pretend we're eating?"
Toby's jaw drops in a thoroughly sarcastic expression. "I'll have you know we've been slaving away over a hot stove to feed you nursing-home residents."
"Enough old-people humor. It's getting quite annoying."
I slide my arm round his waist. "Relax, gràidh . We should be happy that the children are having a good time instead of worrying about my intruder."
Eric grins. "Aw, you called Rafe 'dear.' Isn't that sweet? I know about ' gràidh ' because Thane uses the same nickname for my mom."
"Aye, he does. It's a common Gaelic endearment in the Highlands."
Now that the children have calmed down, we all sit at the dining room table to enjoy our food.
I study the dishes, rather confused by what I see. "What have you cooked for us? Dinnae recognize most of these foods."
Toby aims a tolerant smile at me. "That's because you're the older generation. Younger men and women like to switch things up."
Rafe squints at his son. "Switch things up how? I'd rather have a good fry up."
"Yeah, I know. But the kids made breakfast, so deal with it. You could express a little bit of gratitude."
Rafe glances at the foods again and then nods. "You're right. Sorry. I'm sure whatever you've cooked will be lovely."
"Aye, it will," I say. "But we might, um, need explanations of what these dishes are. Since we're very elderly."
Toby chuckles. "Sure, Iona. We can do that."
Eric clears his throat. "We figured you guys would need a breakfast road map, and I've been assigned the task of explaining."
I look at Rafe, who shrugs, then face the children. "We're ready."
"We'll start with the dish that's closest to you guys and go from there." Eric sits up a wee bit straighter, seeming to enjoy his emcee duties. "First up, we have egg curry, a perennial fave at the frat house Toby and I lived in during our college days."
Rafe's brows wrinkle. "What is a 'fave'?"
"It's short for 'favorite.' Capisce?"
"Yes, I've watched mafia movies on the telly."
Eric continues. "Toby and I had an argument about what to call this while you two"---He mimes a cartoonish wink--- "were 'getting dressed' earlier. But eventually, we agreed on the name." He points to a plate of...something. "This is British-American eggy bread. Still think 'eggy' sounds dumb, but whatever. Anyway, this consists of two pieces of bread drowned in a sweet egg mixture and folded over. The sandwich is filled with three kinds of melted cheese."
Rafe's lip curls. "That sounds ruddy awful. Did you get this idea by hunting through dumpsters?"
"Ha-ha. This is a popular breakfast item among our friends."
I lay a hand on Rafe's thigh under the table, giving it a wee squeeze. "We'll try it, won't we? And there will be no lip-curling."
Rafe nods, though it's a somewhat resigned expression.
"I'm sure you'll like this one, Rafe," Eric says. "Toby told me this is the Knight family way of toasting bread---almost burned. So, we made burnt toast with three different toppings to choose from, or you can put them all on one piece of bread. You've got avocado, two kinds of jam, nut butter, and syrup. Courtney insisted on making mini pancakes with wheat germ and pecans. It's kind of too normal for me, but whatever."
Toby nudges Eric in the side. "You forgot to tell them about the spicy hash browns."
"You just told them, so I don't need to."
I smile. "Thank you, all of you, for creating this wonderful breakfast. I can't wait to try these dishes. You can't wait either, can you, Rafe?"
"Oh, yes, I'm thrilled beyond measure."
Despite the sarcasm in Rafe's tone, I have a feeling he'll change his mind once he tastes the food. And as it turns out, he does develop an appreciation for the unusual delicacies these young adults favor. We both try every dish. I whisper into Rafe's ear to let him know all the naughty things I'll do to him later if he refrains from criticizing the food. These three lovely young people spent a good deal of time concocting a fine breakfast for us. We express our thanks once the meal is over, and the youngsters' faces light up.
Even Rafe smiles. He appreciates what Toby, Courtney, and Eric have done for us. So do I. It was a very sweet gesture.
Rafe and I insist on washing the dishes and cleaning up after our breakfast. The children sit on the sofa to play a board game, something called Telestrations. I have never heard of it, and neither has Rafe. But apparently, it's been around for a good while. Since it sounds like a children's game, I doubt Rafe or I will join them.
Just as we finish cleaning up, Toby throws his arms up and exclaims, "I am the king of Norwich Telestrations! That's not much of a prize, mind you. No one will ever know I've won for the entire town."
Courtney and Eric jump off the sofa and bow down to their friend. "Toby Knight is the king, Toby Knight is the king..."
"Enough," Rafe grouchily shouts. "Do you want to go on playing children's games? Or would you rather visit my research facility? If you're very, very good, I might let you touch my Tesla coil."
Oddly, that statement sounds erotic to me. Rafe can touch my Tesla coil anytime, not that I have a clue what one looks like or how it works. Rafe could say any unusual phrase, and it would make me randy.
Toby leaps over the back of the sofa. "You're really going to show me your mad-scientist laboratory? I've begged you to give me a tour for years, but you always had excuses why you couldn't."
Rafe comes around behind the sofa and sets a hand on Toby's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It's just that---Well, never mind."
"Come on, Dad. You can't stop mid-sentence."
"I know." Rafe glances at Eric and Courtney. "It's only that your mother made me swear I'd never take you to my lab."
Toby bows his head and sighs. Then he looks up at his father. "Yeah, Mum can be kind of...rigid. She made me swear to the same thing. I shouldn't have gone along with that."
"You were a teenager. Our marital problems shouldn't have bled into my relationship with you." Rafe gives Toby's shoulder a squeeze. "From now on, no secrets."
Toby nods.
I can't help feeling a wee bit excited. "Are we going to your lab, then, Rafe?"
He chuckles. "Yes, pet. You are adorably excited about it. Are you planning to write an article about me?"
"I hadn't thought of that. Your work, and what it's cost you, would make an excellent story." My mobile phone chimes, and I check the text message by rote. "This is from Maeve. She and Rowan are standing outside this house right now."
"Come inside!" Rafe shouts. "The door is unlocked."
The door bursts open, and my daughters rush over here to hug me. They talk so fast, and talk over each other so much, that I cannae understand any of it. Finally, the lasses calm down enough to speak.
"Are you all right, Mam?" Rowan asks. "I know I was supposed to stay with Evan and Keely in Inverness, and Maeve was told to stay at school, but we just couldn't do that. You're in danger."
I hug both my daughters at the same time and kiss their cheeks. "Dinnae fash. I'm in good hands with Rafe. He would never let anyone hurt me."
Rowan and Maeve peer around me, and their eyes widen.
"Who is that?" Rowan asks, sounding slightly breathless. "He's gorgeous."
"Oh, aye," Maeve concurs. "Is he your new boyfriend? About time you found someone."
Rowan's gaze grows almost flinty. "Is this Rafe, the beast we heard about? The bod ceann who assaulted our Mam?"
I can't help reverting to my mother voice. "Rafe never assaulted me. His behavior early on was a misunderstanding."
"So, I won't need to ask Uncle Thane or Uncle Ramsay to batter him?"
"Absolutely not. Rafe is a good man." If I want to convince my daughters that I haven't been brainwashed, I'll need to step up my game. "Did you know Rafe is a lightning researcher? If you're sweet to him, he might let you go with us to his laboratory. He has a Tesla coil, which sounds fascinating, don't you agree?"
The lasses exchange glances, then shrug simultaneously. Maeve speaks for both of them. "We want to see that. I doubt Rowan has any idea what a Tesla coil is, being a simple assistant to a billionaire, but I can explain it to her." She switches to a baby-talk voice as she looks at her sister. "A Tesla coil is a big machine thingy that makes electricity go crackle and snap like baby lightning."
Rowan rolls her eyes.
"Are we set, then?" Rafe asks. "A group tour of my lab is on tap?"
Everyone voices their agreement with varying types of noises and the occasional mumbled word.
Before we leave, though, I need to make sure my lasses are well fed. "Did you two have breakfast yet? There are some leftovers in the refrigerator if you're hungry."
"Ooh, that sounds yummy," Rowan says while rubbing her palms together. Her tongue pokes out a wee bit too. "We left so early this morning that we didn't have time to eat."
Maeve puckers her lips. "You little liar. The on-board chef cooked breakfast for us on Lachlan's jet, in flight. You are not hungry."
Rowan's lips tighten into a sneaky wee smile. "Well, if no one else wants the leftovers, I might as well have them. Can't let food go to waste."
Before the lasses can start fake-arguing again, I step in. "There's enough left to give everyone a wee snack while we're driving to Rafe's lab. I'll put everything in a tote bag. If you dinnae mind the food being cold."
Another round of group assent seals the deal.
Rafe helps me gather the food and carefully pack it. Then I realize we have a slight problem, and I turn to Rafe. "We won't all fit in your car, gràidh . Our entourage has expanded."